What I’ve Learned Teaching Over 400 Students This Term

This term, I’ve had the privilege of teaching more than 400 students across three schools.

When people think of kids’ yoga, they often picture calm children sitting quietly in meditation or perfectly balancing in tree pose.

The reality is a little different.

Some children don’t want to participate.

Some roll their eyes.

Some spend the first few weeks testing boundaries.

And honestly? That’s okay.

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned this term is that every child arrives exactly where they need to be. Some jump straight in. Others watch from the sidelines for weeks before they feel safe enough to join.

I’ve seen children who refused to participate in Week 1 become some of the most enthusiastic students by Week 6.

I’ve seen children labelled as “naughty” completely transform when given responsibility, a special job, or simply some positive attention.

Sometimes all a child needs is for someone to notice them.

A few times this term I’ve quietly said to a student, “I can see how hard you’re trying, and I’m really proud of you.”

More than once, I’ve watched a child’s eyes well up with tears.

Not because of a yoga pose.

Not because they mastered a breathing exercise.

But because they felt seen.

As adults, we often underestimate the power of that.

Yoga has always been much more than movement for me.

Sometimes I leave a yoga class feeling energised. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I feel lighter.

It’s never really about the poses.

It’s about being present enough to notice what’s happening inside.

It’s about creating space for emotions, thoughts and feelings to move through rather than staying stuck.

And I see the same thing happen with children.

Not every class.

Not every child.

But often enough that it reminds me why I do this work.

Sometimes a child will linger after class, looking as though they want to say something but can’t quite find the words.

Instead, they give me a hug.

And somehow, I know.

I know something shifted for them.

Maybe they felt calm for the first time that week.

Maybe they felt accepted.

Maybe they simply enjoyed having a moment where nobody expected anything from them.

Whatever it is, it’s powerful.

One of my favourite parts of every class is our breathing practice.

Usually it’s only a minute.

Just sixty seconds.

Before we begin, the room is buzzing with chatter, excitement and energy.

Then we sit.

We breathe.

A few children hold in a giggle.

A few peek to see what everyone else is doing.

But by the end of that minute, the energy in the room has completely changed.

It’s like two different classes.

The shift is tangible.

It’s hard to explain, but every teacher who has experienced it knows exactly what I mean.

One teacher recently told me that yoga is the best way to start the school day because she notices the difference in her classroom for the rest of the day.

She sees calmer students.

More focus.

More grounding.

Other teachers tell me yoga is their students’ favourite part of the week.

The truth is, it’s mine too.

I love the joy.

I love the connection.

I love watching children discover that they are capable of more than they think.

Because we never really know what a child is carrying when they walk into class.

Maybe they’re struggling to make friends.

Maybe things are difficult at home.

Maybe they’re worried about a sibling.

Maybe they’re carrying feelings of sadness, loneliness or not feeling good enough.

We rarely know the full story.

What we can do is provide a space where they can move, breathe, laugh, rest and simply be themselves.

Sometimes that alone can be life-changing.

Alongside movement and mindfulness, we talk about values too.

Resilience.

Gratitude.

Honesty.

Kindness.

For some of the younger children, these ideas are brand new.

The deeper meaning may not land straight away.

But seeds are being planted.

And one day, years from now, when life feels challenging, I hope they’ll remember.

I hope they’ll remember that they can take a breath.

That they can try again.

That they are stronger than they realise.

That they have got this.

Because they do.

And that is why I teach yoga.